


(the most literal form of) Expression and Understanding

by AngeNoir



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Ableism, F/M, Families of Choice, Pre-Relationship, Sexist Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 12:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2850488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes what seems to be the shallowest pool has the deepest secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(the most literal form of) Expression and Understanding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carolinga (carriemac)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=carolinga+%28carriemac%29), [carriemac](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=carriemac).



> I had to stop where I did otherwise it would be over 1k and I wasn't entirely sure if that could even be posted to the Madness collection x.x;;

“Do your people dance?”

Gamora looked up from her seat to see Quill leaning on the doorway for the small compartment, eyes fixed on Drax.

Drax looked up briefly from his weapons, a slight look of confusion on his face. “Are you directing your question at me?” he asked.

Quill nodded amiably as he walked in and sat down opposite Drax. “Yeah, I was. Do your people dance? I tried to get Gamora to dance with me, but now I’m thinking maybe I should have asked you.”

Drax seemed to consider the question before shaking his head slowly. “I would not have been a good dancing companion. I would have been unable to dance well enough to distract Ronon. And I was aiding our diminutive companion with his weapon.”

“But do your people dance?” Quill pushed. “Did your daughter? Your wife?”

Drax’s hands stilled on his weaponry, head bowed to the ground. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Dance is one of the most honest forms of expression my people had. Whether happy or sad, angry or exultant, dancing has been a deep part of my people’s culture.”

Leaning back in his seat, Quill crossed his arms behind his head. “Perhaps one day you might dance for us.”

“You are my family,” Drax replied, lifting one shoulder. “Perhaps one day I might.”

Laughing, Quill popped up to his feet – he reminded Gamora of nothing else but a small fetterbunt, one of those annoying furred creatures that hopped about one’s feet and begged for food – and patted Drax’s shoulder. “I’d love to learn more about your culture. And I’d love to start new traditions with you – with all of us. Groot already enjoys my music.”

“Your music is worthless,” Drax said factually, and she could see Quill recoil a little before understanding Drax’s character enough to brush off the remark.

“Well, I’m sure we can find some instrumental pieces somewhere,” Quill responded. “Those might be more your speed.”

“I can dance at any speed,” Drax countered.

Quill sighed a little and took his hand off Drax’s shoulder. “We’ll work on it.”

She watched Quill exit the small room and Drax return to his weaponry. After a few minutes, Drax rumbled, “I see you watching me, witch.”

“You called me whore before, and witch now. What did you mean by those?” she asked, deciding to come at her true question from an angle rather than straight on – after all, Drax only ever understood what was happening when it was laid out in a straight line, not when someone approached him obliquely.

Drax frowned. “It is obvious. I only ever say what I mean.”

Gamora bit her tongue briefly to keep from lashing out at him, and then said in as calm a voice she could muster, “And yet I did not understand what you meant, so I am asking you to explain.”

“You sell yourself, to Thanos, to Ronon, to Quill – you make your body a commodity too precious to throw away,” Drax said, voice blunt and forthright. “You do not treat yourself as anything other than coin.”

Gamora felt shaken to the core at Drax’s words, because she had always thought – well, Drax was, as his people were, extremely literal minded. They did not have the nuances in language that she had come to recognize in the many dialects she spoke; they did not use euphemisms. When he had called her a whore, back before Ronon was taken apart by their teamwork, it was because – she had thought – he saw her as a whore. Not this – not this complicated meaning, of what whore meant and what he saw in her behavior.

But Drax, as literal as ever, continued even though she was visibly unbalanced, “And you beguile me, your body and your strength, and it is something that I feel should be unwanted, and yet the attraction remains. If you dislike either term I shall remove them from my speech with you.”

“You are – this is not how your people act, normally,” Gamora finally said, voice choked a little.

Drax laughed, but it was a bitter sound that dragged her out of her self-reflection and really made her _look_ at him. “My people. My people are finished, a broken spirit in a diminished body. No one knows how my people act. We express ourselves with one another, through honesty instead of deceit like so many other peoples in this galaxy, and others call us simple. You, and that beast, and Quill – all see me as unintelligent. Yet I am intelligent enough to recognize the slight.”

Gamora opened her mouth and then closed it, unsure of what to say, of how to react.

“Perhaps my people, _I_ , I will never fully understand the speech around me. But better to be clear and direct than to slip behind words and double meanings and gestures that mean nothing like the t’rryk.” Drax stood up, a sharp angry movement, and she found herself on her feet too, putting a hand gently on his arm.

He looked at her, eyes dark and hooded, and she cleared her throat. “I would love to learn to dance, from you. To learn more about your culture.”

His face lit up, a smile touching his eyes and curving his mouth. “And I would love to share my culture with my family, fellow warrior.”


End file.
